Paint In the Lines
by MysticJadeShoe
Summary: AU: Sam's a painter in Chicago. And while he's never made it big - you can only get so far with the occasional mural - he does have a few devoted fans, and there's one who's going to turn his world upside-down. Sabriel.


**HELLO FRIENDS IT IS ME**

**Okay so**

**I started writing this and uh here just read it I guess**

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Each stroke of the brush carried its weight. Laying colors down, melding them, making them more beautiful with every pass of the bristles. Each stroke was immensely important, and as such, meant that one couldn't rush them.

Sam had learned this the first time he had applied brush to canvas. It took time to do something correctly; rushing it was never the way to go with paint. Every flick of his wrist carried weight when it came to these things.

Especially a mural this size. I mean, damn. He'd never been commissioned to do a mural this huge and never on the side of a restaurant wall. It was one of the best jobs he'd had in a while - two thousand to get this done by the end of the month.

To be honest, he'd never painted anything like this either. Sure, he'd loved drawing birds in art school, and the prompt the manager of the restaurant had given to him was 'heaven', but... he'd never taken to drawing angels.

One this intricate was a first, too. Three sets of golden wings spanning the length of the wall, bright, shining golds and dark coppers mottled to make the wings stand out and look more realistic, a robed figure facing the opposite direction, dirty blonde hair just above his shoulders. It was like nothing he'd ever painted before. He tended to stick to bending light and everyday people.

Whatever. The way he saw it, he wouldn't complain when the muse told him what to do. He brought his brush down again, shading another fold in the robe carefully.

Ever since he was small, paint had been his solace when people had failed to be there. His mother had died when he was still in the crib... and he'd never really gotten along with his dad to begin with. The old man had died in a car accident, anyhow. He hadn't made a lot of friends throughout high school, and the few that he did make never stuck around. His brother Dean was basically all he had, but even Dean had places to go, people to see, when he was off-duty as a fireman.

He couldn't help but recall how many times Dean had been to the hospital since he'd picked up that job. It scared both Sam and Dean's boyfriend Cas out of their minds half the time, wondering if he'd make it home alive.

But paint and a canvas were constant. Sam couldn't ask for a better companion than that. He let his brow furrow as he looked down at his palette, trying to see what blend of colors would be perfect for the halo Sam was going to put high above his head.

"That yours?"

His major fault was that he tended to block out the world when he was painting. His head spun around to see who had directed the question at him, stopping upon a fairly short man with golden eyes and a dark green jacket.

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied, unable to stop the smile that settled across his features. He liked it when people looked at his work, he couldn't help it.

A light went on in the man's eyes. "So you're Sam Winchester?"

His eyebrow raised. "You've seen my art before?"

"Only everywhere around the city, no biggie," the man said. "I'm- sorry, that sounded creepy as hell. I'm Gabriel, Gabriel Novak." He offered a hand to shake.

Sam set his brush down on the palette, slipping his half-gloved hand into the stranger's. "Sam -" he started before recalling that Gabriel already knew his name. He let out an awkward laugh. "How long have you been in the city, Gabriel?"

"Pleeeease, it's Gabe," the blond said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "And I'm just a Chicago native, born and raised. You from here?"

"Nah, I'm from Kansas. Lawrence, in fact."

Gabe tilted his head. "You're quite a ways from home. What's a Kansasite doing in Chi-town?"

"Dad found work around here when I was twelve, never had the heart to leave." Sam let out a soft chuckle. "It kinda grows on you, y'know?"

There was a breathless element to Gabe's smile when he flashed it at Sam; he looked vaguely relieved, though that was a look he'd carried into the conversation. Mostly in his eyes was a look of awe, especially when his eyes wandered to the incomplete mural.

"So have you been painting since you came screaming out of your mom's stargate, or...?"

"No- what? No, I've been painting since I was eight," Sam replied. "I took a few classes in high school but I'm mostly self-taught. Degree in art, but you can't do a lot with that these days."

Gabe snorted. "Well, apparently yyyou can. This, it's nothin' to blow your nose at. How much are they paying you for this job?"

"Two thousand to get it done by the end of the month."

The blond's eyebrows shot up. "Oh come on, for work this good? That's not half enough for it. I'm willing to bet you can't get a lunch offa that."

"Are you-"

"C'mon. Lunch on me." He turned around before Sam could protest, and that's when Sam saw-

The hair.

His hair.

Gabe's hair was the exact same style and shade as the one on the mural, the heavenly messenger Sam had just put on a wall.

Sam decided to take this as an omen and set down his palette, putting away his brush quickly. Maybe this was going to be interesting, he figured, clasping the brush case shut before packing his supplies in his bag and running to catch up with Gabriel.

Getting to know the angel he'd just painted would be plenty interesting.

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**Huhhhh I might continue this and I might not.**

**Whatever. Tell me what you think.**


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